


Lacking

by Kalira



Series: Unbalance [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of Rough Sex, Angst, Comfort, Kuro is awkward, M/M, Shiro (Voltron) is Missing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:09:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12107436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Kuro knows now that he isn't what Keith wants, but he offers comfort as best he can for . . . not being Shiro.





	Lacking

Keith nodded as Allura suggested another small change in their plan, but he was no longer listening. This was by far better her arena than his - when he was backing her up after they had actually touched down and made contact with the ambassadors on the new planet, then he’d be useful. For this stage? He was just painfully reminded that he was an awkward outsider who barely understood dealings with his _friends_.

“Perhaps that’s enough for today.” Allura suggested, and Keith looked up at her, wincing. Her expression was sympathetic, but not soft. She clasped his shoulder, hard enough to press against the knotted tension there, and inclined her head.

“Sure.” Keith rose, then offered his hand and ducked his head as she took it. “I’m sorry. I’ve been distracted.”

“It’s fine. We’ll get back to work on it tomorrow.” Allura said, meeting his eyes; not quite an order, but a firm reminder all the same. Keith nodded. He’d pull his shit together by then, he just . . . he just needed to wallow in it first, apparently.

Keith bypassed the rooms he knew would hold the others, taking a roundabout route. He almost went to Red’s hangar, but . . . no.

It would be too easy to find him there, and anyway he thought even Red was starting to get sick of his moods now.

Instead, he went up - not to Black’s hangar, the thought of which made him feel sick and tore at his heart, but to one of the highest observation decks. It was tiny, and it took a long walk to reach, which meant likely he would be left alone there.

Keith sagged against the window, looking at the stars flying by outside the Castle. Looked through them, really, thinking of Shiro, wondering where his lover _was_.

At least now he knew Shiro was _alive_ \- for the first weeks they’d been afraid, though no one would say it aloud, that Shiro had somehow been . . . vaporised. That the final clash with Zarkon had just. . .

Kuro had talked about his ‘other self’ though and- and-

Keith bit back tears, his eyes burning. He still bore the bruises from his night with Kuro; a raw scrape on his shoulder - just where his tee shirt only half covered it, but he left his jacket on and no one had noticed - and a handprint bruised into his hip. The scratches from Kuro’s metal claws still striped his ribs. The ache of being so roughly taken had faded days ago, but the other reminders . . . they lingered.

He rubbed at his eyes with his jacket sleeve, breath hitching, and leaned against the window again, eyes closed this time. Shiro’s name echoed through Keith’s mind, but he didn’t say it aloud, his heart aching.

Keith didn’t know how long he’d been there before-

Big hands slid over his shoulders, then down his back. “Keith?”

The voice was a soft murmur - familiar and sweet - followed by a softer kiss to his throat, and Keith’s distressed, distracted mind linked it to the touch he had most wanted. His breath caught.

Keith crumpled as the strong hands wrapped around his waist and he was pulled into his lover’s lap. A gentle nuzzle to his hair and powerful arms enfolding him undermined the last of his control, and he turned to hide his face against a broad shoulder as he lost the struggle not to cry.

“Kuro. . .”

Kuro’s hands stilled on his back, and Kuro made a little choking sound. He rested his jaw against Keith’s head, hugging him a little tighter.

“You- You don’t want me.” Kuro said, and his raspy voice was lacking the usual tinge of unholy glee. It was the first time he’d said _that_ , either.

Keith swallowed. “I know it’s you, Kuro. I know who you’re . . . not.” he said, though he couldn’t bring himself to look up.

“I. . .” Kuro sounded uncertain. “I’m . . . sorry. That I can’t . . . be him. The other me. For you.” he said quietly, and Keith’s heart wrenched. “I know he’s who you want here. Not me.” Keith drew in a harsh breath, half-sobbing, and Kuro stiffened, patting him awkwardly. “I am not very good at this.” Kuro added distantly.

“You’re-” Keith huffed. “It’s- It’s fine.” he said, struggling to clear the achy tightness from his throat. “Shiro. His name. You can- You can say it. Please.” he added, not sure why it was so important to him now, as he dragged himself up and looked Kuro in his brilliant, alien eyes.

Kuro looked at him dubiously, and Keith’s hands curled unconsciously around his arms.

“. . .Shiro.” Kuro said finally, mouth moving somehow oddly around the name.

Keith’s breath came out in a wrecked sob, and he clung to Kuro again, keening against his throat. Kuro held him tight, but gently, in strong arms, and if the little sounds he made as he rocked them were more confused than soothing and occasionally edged by little growls, well Keith wasn’t the best at being comforting either.


End file.
